Tripping on Angel Dust
by RealGuitarHero93
Summary: *singing* i was gonna prevent the apocalypse untill i got high! basically what i just sang. castiel's a bit incapacitated. lol i own nothing *shifty eyes*


"Uh…Cas? Why are you petting me?

Dean was hunched up in the driver's seat of the Impala trying to avoid the hand that raked heavily through his hair. The angel sighed and pressed his cheek against the worn seat.

"You're just so…so…" the hand lowered to Dean's stubbled cheek and stroked it delicately.

"fluffy."

Dean scowled and smacked the angel's wandering hand away from his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Cas?" he asked his deep voice rough with irritation.

"Idunno," Castiel managed around a mouthful of something.

Sam stifled a laugh.

"Dean."

**Snicker.**

"I think Cas might be…*a HEM*…under the _influence."_

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he whipped his head around to the back seat.

The angel's tie hung out of his mouth. His dark brown mop of hair stuck up in extremely odd directions, looking even more gravity-defying than usual. His trench coat hung lopsided on his skinny shoulders and one perfectly unscuffed dress shoe stuck out of his pocket.

Dean's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Castiel's _high?! _Son-of-a-bitch."

Sam tried desperately to stifle a laugh as a shoe appeared from over Dean's shoulder and tumbled into his lap.

"Oops," Castiel slurred, patting Dean's head.

"Sorry 'bout that. I fo'got to put on his _leash _dis morning."

Deans' bright green eyes went wide, his hands tightening on the Impala steering wheel, and Sam burst out laughing

"This sure is a pretty room…it's all _swirly. _Hey, Dean, is dat mah bed? Ooo…it looks _squishy."_

Castiel stumbled over to the motel waterbed and flopped on it. It jiggled lazily.

"Whoa! I feel like I'm on a boat, Dean. Dean, come try this. This is _way _better than my cloud."

He pouted his blue eyes wide and glazed-looking.

"Dean, I miss my cloud." He sighed and sat up, swaying gently from side to side.

"Dean, can I have a hug? I could use a hug."

Dean stood in the middle of the room, an overly-packed duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression appeared to be in a permanent scowl; his green eyes hard, lips set in a thing straight line. It didn't help matters that his little brother was getting the biggest kick out of this.

"Deeaannnn!" the angle whined, sliding slowly on his back off the waterbed and onto the stained carpet. He lay on his back, his arms and legs sliding in wide arches across the dirty fabric.

"Come make carpet angels with me!" He placed a hand over his mouth and giggled.

"Ha! That's right! _I'm _an angel!"

This revelation brought on even more giggles.

Sam turned to face his aggravated older brother, a wide "shit eating" grin on his face.

"Go on, bro. Go play with your angel."

Dean glared at Sam, tossing his bag on the nearest bed. This caught the angel's attention and he sat up, looking wide-eyed at the brothers over the side of the bed; a black-smudge square decorated his upper lip. He grinned.

"Hey! Dean! Sam! Lookatmee!"

He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling drunkenly. He stood straight, crossing an arm in front of him and extending it in a Nazi salute.

"I'm Hitler!"

Dean and Sam watched in shocked silence as the angel goose-stepped around them.

"What are we gonna do with him?" Sam asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Dean sighed heavily and plopped down on the one waterbed, the ripples throwing him off balance.

"I'm not sure, Sammy," he mumbled, watching Cas march around the room, his head in his hands.

"We can't take an angel to the hospital. We'd be better off walking in there with giant cardboard signs saying 'We hunt monsters! Send us to an institution!'"

Sam nodded, his expression pensive.

"Well, for starters, we should probably get him some food and find a way to keep him cool."

The brothers watched as Castiel picked up a tiny bar of decorative soap, sniff it, and then raise it to his mouth.

"Cas! Don't eat that!" Dean shouted, jumping to his feet.

The angel looked at him, his signature "confused puppy" expression cranked on "high."

"But it looks…" he gazed longingly at the soap in his hand, "D-LICIOUS!"

Dean's eyes were aimed straight ahead, his expression still border-line furious. Castiel skipped beside him, a giant soft pretzel in his hand, his other wrist clamped tightly in the hunter's grasp.

"Thisisyummy," Castiel said, his cheeks packed with pretzel. He swallowed and thrust the twisted dough into Dean's face.

"Wanna bite?"

Sam walked beside them, his face red with the effort of holding in his laughter. He knew that loud obnoxious laughter was inappropriate, especially with their situation, but watching the angel skip alongside his hardass brother, dressed in plaid shorts and a SpongeBob shirt, amused him to no end.

Dean backed away from the food, something he normally would never do, but he had to get Cas back to the motel room, get him in a cold shower. The angel's skin was beginning to blaze under Dean's hand.

"No, that's all right," he said, smiling crookedly at Castiel.

The angel's eyes lowered in rejection, but his feelings didn't stay hurt for long.

"Ooo!" he squealed, slipping stealthily from the hunter's grip, his pretzel falling to the sidewalk.

"Cas!"

The angel stood in front of a beat up-looking, hard plastic frog. A worn faux, leather saddle was strapped to its back, a coin-automated slot stood erect next to it. Castiel stared, fascinated, at the children's ride, taking in all the details; the worn white paint of its eyes, the yellow and purple polka-dots adorning its faded green skin. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, a painted black fly resting on the dirty pink surface.

Castiel tilted his head, ignoring the Winchesters who appeared, out of breath, behind him. He reached out a tentative hand, giggling as his fingers brushed the shiny plastic.

"Dean!" he yelled.

The hunter flinched.

"Yeah," he answered, sticking a finger in his ear to east eh sharp ache. "I'm right here, Cas."

"I want this. It's pretty. I'm gonna call him…" Castiel tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. He grinned.

"Dean Jr."

Sam let out a loud guffaw and Dean shot him the "evil eye."

"That's…that's great, Cas. Come on, we have to get you back to the motel room."

Dean tugged at the angel's arm, but Castiel didn't move.

"I wanna stay here…with Dean Jr." He stroked the frog's nose lovingly. "He's my best friend. You're so pretty."

He rested a scruffy cheek against the frog's eye, all the while still stroking its nose.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked over at his brother, Sam grinned and Dean held up a finger, his expression hardening.

"Don't. Say. A. Word."

Sam lowered his head trying to erase the smirk from his face.

"Cas, come on. I don't have time for this. We need to get you back, now."

Castiel giggled.

"Don't worry, Dean Jr. I won't leave you. I'll keep you safe from the mean old man. Hey, do you like waffles? We can go get some waffles with…chocolate chips. We can share a pretzel. Pretzels are D-LICIOUS. I had my first one today, Dean got it for me. Along with these pants, but I think someone cut these, they're shorter than normal and make my kneecaps cold."

Dean buried his face in his hands. He was _beyond_ embarrassed. His angel, the angel that yanked him out of Hell for Christ's sake, was talking to a giant plastic frog! He refused to look, but Dean was certain that people were staring.

"Dean…" Castiel had stopped cuddling the frog, one hand was against his forehead. He looked up at the eldest Winchester, his eyes rheumy.

"Who turned up the sun?"

Dean caught the angel just before his head could crack open on the pavement.

His hands wrung the steering wheel anxiously; his eyes scanned the rain-soaked horizon. He continuously checked the rearview mirror, his gaze being met by red-rimmed blue eyes.

Castiel swayed sickeningly, beads of sweat prominent on his forehead, along his hair line and neck. He was mumbling to himself and this intensified Dean's worry.

**What if he has a stroke? Or seizure?**

**What is he has permanent brain damage?**

**Who the HELL slipped him some X in the first place?!**

"Dean."

The angel's naturally rough, stern voice was unusually weak, hoarse.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, his voice soft and shaking.

Castiel shifted in the backseat, sighing.

"You know, people talk about God. All the time. 'God this and God that.' Well, I say screw him."

Dean's expression reflected curiosity. He looked over at Sam, who sat silently in the passenger seat. He shrugged his shoulders subtly.

"I mean," the angel pushed himself off the seat, trying to sit straighter, "I barely see the guy. I'm not even sure what he really looks like. He could be a fricken Cyclops, for all I know!"

The brothers' eyes went wide.

"And holidays? Psh. Not even a damn card! Nothing. The closest thing we got is his little messenger bitch!"

Dean cringed at the angel's language. He wasn't used to hearing words like "fricken" or "bitch" come out of his mouth, and he really didn't like it.

"It's like he doesn't care," Castiel continued, his eyes fluttering shut, "but I know he does. If he didn't, he wouldn't have assigned me to you, Dean. God knew you would be good for me, that's why he sent me to save you. We're a good team."

Castiel sighed harshly then fell silent.

"I don't think we're supposed to be doing it this way…"

Castiel slurred, spitting cold water.

Dean sat on the rusted porcelain toilet, watching as the incapacitated angel tried, but failed, to avoid getting tangled in the shower head.

"It's just until we get you cooled down," Sam said from the doorway.

Castiel shook his head, waters splashing into Dean's face.

"Oh. Okay."

The angel was still out of it, but at least he wasn't talking to inanimate objects anymore and Dean could breathe a bit easier.

Castiel yanked at his saturated SpongeBob t-shirt.

"This is a bit uncomfortable," he said softly. "Dean, where is my coat? And tie?"

The hunter stood, still wiping water from his eyes.

"They're on the bed, Cas. Just a while longer and we'll get you out, all right?"

Castiel nodded, lowering his eyes to his pants.

"What am I wearing anyway, Dean?"

He tilted his head awkwardly, trying to read the name that was brandished under the little animated sponge in thick-rimmed glasses.

"Who is…_SpongeBob Square pants?"_

Dean grinned and reached to turn off the water.

**Good old clueless Cas is back, **he thought holding up a matted towel for the soaked angel to wrap himself in.

"Feel better?" he asked as he assisted in getting the blue-eyes angel out of the cracked tub.

"Not really," Cas replied, grimacing.

"Yeah well, it's going to take a while. You were pretty strung up."

Dean grinned, confused as to why he didn't see the humor earlier. He had to admit, listening to Castiel singing _It's Raining Men _in the backseat, wearing a shirt with a large picture of a kid's cartoon was pretty hilarious.

After helping the dazed angel back into his usual attire, Sam and Dean lounged against the hood of the Impala. Castiel stood in front of them, his usual air of authority back in full swing.

"I appreciate your assistance," he said, his intense gaze switching from one handsome face to the other.

The brothers nodded in unison.

Castiel turned to walk away, but stopped.

"Oh, and Dean?"

The older hunter raised one eyebrow in acknowledgement.

"I wasn't lying when I said you were fluffy." Castiel winked one bright blue eye then disappeared in a flutter of wings.

"Wha…?"

A stunned Dean was then interrupted by his brother's uproarious laughter.

**XD**

**END**


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